Crockett had arranged to travel into Texas with a small party which was then ready for the journey. The recruiting was to go on, and the parties of volunteers were to be sent after them into the new country as they were armed and equipped.
As Walter and Ned saw a long journey ahead of them through a dangerous region, they set about preparing themselves for it. First they purchased, with the aid of Dolph, a couple of saddle horses of that small, tough breed common to the southwest.
“Those ponies,” said the old Texan, valuing the purchases with an expert eye, “will give you good service and are worth all you’ve paid for them. They are of the kind that without much corn will stand hard riding and still not be any the worse for it.”
Next the lads bought themselves a rifle each. Both knew the use of the weapon, having hunted in the Kentucky mountains and woods many times. Also they purchased good, heavy, broad-bladed hunting knives and a couple of small hatchets, such as are used by woodsmen.
“And don’t forget a derringer each,” said Colonel Crockett. “It’s a small thing, has very little weight, and can be carried in the pocket without trouble. It’s a weapon that’s saved more lives at time of sudden danger than any other I know of.”
And so, with their derringers, hunting knives, hatchets and rifles, the two young fellows felt themselves very well armed indeed. Mounted upon their ponies, attired in fringed hunting shirts and broad brimmed hats, they looked very well fitted to cope with both the savage region and savage men ahead of them.
It was early one morning that the word was given; and off they started across Arkansas to Fulton, where they were to get the steamboat. The state of Arkansas was at that time very well settled; its hospitable people never failed to do what they could for the travelers on their way to the war; good food and good beds were to be had without trouble. At Fulton, which they made without any mishap, they boarded a boat which was to take them down the Red River as far as Natchitoches.
This latter proved to be a small place on the south bank of the river; the party spent one night in the town, and then set off toward the Texan town of Nacogdoches, which lay a hundred and twenty miles away over the old Spanish trail.
This latter lay through a wild country in which ranged great herds of buffalo, and droves of small, active mustangs, wild for many generations.
“Tough little critters,” said old Dolph as he rode with the boys in advance of the party. “You never felt such hard mouths in your lives. Don’t care no more for a bit than if it was of soft rubber.”